


First Night - DC Verse Ficlet #2

by DyrneKeeper



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:02:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DyrneKeeper/pseuds/DyrneKeeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt leaves for Washington. Blaine misses him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Night - DC Verse Ficlet #2

**Title** : First Night - DC Verse Ficlet # 2  
 **Rating** : PG-13  
 **Pairings/Characters** : Kurt/Blaine  
 **Spoilers** : All of S3 is fair game.  
 **Warnings** : None  
 **Word Count** : 1,300

Not the next part of this verse chronologically (not by a looooong shot) but it’s what happened when I sat down to write. Oops?

Further disclaimer: This ‘verse is not actually a crossover with The West Wing, though TWW provides some strong inspiration for its existence. Sorry!

Summary: Kurt leaves for Washington. Blaine misses him.

 

 

It’s harder than Blaine expects, being alone. The distance hadn’t been something they’d talked about, not the way they’d talked about Kurt’s career and his choices and what might be left for him in New York if (when) he decides to leave Washington. They’ve managed time apart, but only briefly - five months when Kurt was in New York and Blaine was still in Lima, interrupted by visits back and forth and constant texting and nightly skyping. And before that, three months, when Kurt was at McKinley and Blaine was still at Dalton, but that was before, even if it was after they’d started dating, when a boyfriend was a fun wonderful exciting gratifying addition to the life you were already secure in. Now, Kurt is not an addition to Blaine’s life, he is Blaine’s life. Blaine doesn’t know how to think about a day that doesn’t have Kurt woven through it, waking up beside him, calling him at lunch, daydreaming in the afternoon what they’ll do together that evening or that weekend, falling asleep easily with Kurt’s head on his chest and their legs tangled together.

The first day isn’t the worst; Blaine sees Kurt off at the train station, his suit pressed and elegant, Kurt himself perfection in dark wool and pale linen. They kiss goodbye and Kurt promises to call Blaine when he arrives.. On the subway on the way back to their apartment Blaine reads a paperback and wonders if he can get his tenth graders to like it; thinks about whether he can get back to Ohio for the upcoming long weekend; doesn’t think about train stations and the way the tang of hot metal and exhaust in the air had reminded him so sharply and unexpectedly of Rachel, and junior year, and goodbyes.

It doesn’t sink in, not right away, but little moments that first evening let Blaine know that it’s going to, and hard. He washes the dishes and when the strainer is full he turns around to ask Kurt if he can take a turn with the dishtowel, but Kurt’s not there. He flicks the TV on while he sits down with grading and sees a truly hideous concoction on some fashion-reality-show Blaine only tolerates because Kurt loves it and thinks that he’ll have to tell Kurt about it when he gets home later tonight - except.

As the sun sets outside the emptiness starts working its way into Blaine’s brain. It’s achingly quiet, and he gets up from his desk, puts music on. He won’t let the quiet get to him, not tonight, not when he just saw Kurt hours ago and there are days and days left to go. Blaine finishes grading and makes his lunch for tomorrow as the silver disc of the sun slips from a gray winter evening down into a quicksilver darkness, dangerous and cold. He fills the sink again and washes the used utensils because Kurt’s not there to clean them if Blaine leaves them out on the counter (not that Blaine leaves messes, or expects Kurt to clean up after him; it’s just nice to know that Kurt _will_ , if he’s there. It makes Blaine feel cared for, secure, safe.) Even if the music is on it still feels quiet, he has too much room to think and he feels like an echo, insubstantial, with no one to talk to. What is he, without Kurt?

He tosses the damp dishtowel in the hamper in their bedroom, the laundry he’ll have to do this weekend that will contain only his clothes, not their sweaters and shirts and socks tangled together, glorious domesticity in something that really is supposed to be drudgery. It’s going to be the little things, Blaine knows, the little holes Kurt’s left behind him that will make this so hard. Blaine is shudderingly, desperately, glad they never broke up, never really had a bad fight, because at least he knows Kurt is coming back. What would he be doing right now if he thought Kurt had left him behind for good? He _is_ Kurt, Kurt is his life, because that’s just the way it’s supposed to be, they’ve made each other who they are for... Blaine actually has to count. He graduated high school in ‘13 and backwards from there two years...no, three...no, two, right, it was in the spring (almost-spring, the cold furled-bud waiting of the midwestern spring)... fifteen years.

Fifteen _years_. Blaine takes a brief break from moping to feel old.

Kurt texts from Union Station promising to call when he gets to his, the, their apartment; it shouldn’t be this hard but neither of them really know how the Georgetown rowhouse fits into their lives just yet. Blaine tries to read his book again but is hyper-aware of his phone, sitting quiet and dark on the bed next to him. It’s like he’s a teenager all over again, so distracted from his homework waiting for Kurt to call.

It finally lights up just when Blaine is contemplating texting him again, just to check on him, and he drops his book and scoops up his phone so fast he jostles the screen and nearly hangs up by mistake.

“Kurt!”

_“Hello, there, stranger.”_ Kurt’s voice is tired, but warm.

“How are you? How was the train?” He just wants Kurt to talk, about anything, wants to hear his voice unknit the silence.

_“It was good. You know it’s not a bad ride. I need a shower, though.”_

“Can I come?” Blaine grins to the empty room.

_“I wish.”_ Kurt laughs, but his voice is wistful, and Blaine realizes it’s not just him that this distance is going to be hard on. At least he’s in a familiar place, and has his students to look forward to seeing to tomorrow. Kurt had to walk into a dark house, has to go into a strange office tomorrow morning, has to get to know people, has to be _Congressman Hummel_ and deal with the bullshit on the Hill and try not to fail (Blaine knows he won’t fail) and maybe if he’s really lucky make people’s lives better (Kurt makes Blaine’s life amazing) and hopefully at the end of the year won’t feel like this was a waste of time, won’t regret everything he gave up in New York to step into his father’s shoes (Blaine should call Burt tomorrow).

There’s not much to say, really; they’ve had all the big conversations in the months before, but not having much to say has never stopped them talking late into the night before. Blaine turns out the light and curls up under the covers, switches their pillows and presses the side of his face into linen that smells like Kurt. Tonight won’t be the hardest, but tomorrow morning might be, waking up alone and realizing that he’s going to keep waking up alone for weeks, inching across the bed half-awake after the alarm goes off looking for a few minutes of morning cuddles before remembering again that Kurt’s not there.

_“I should let you -”_ It’s past midnight when Kurt’s voice breaks on a yawn and Blaine smiles at the sleepy sounds of him on the other end of the line. _“I should let you sleep.”_ He sounds so drowsy, and Blaine presses his eyes closed so that he can’t see that Kurt’s not right here with him, reminds himself that they both have to work in the morning and that tomorrow is going to be hard enough without going into it sleep deprived. He won’t ask for five more minutes.

“Alright. Sweet dreams, Kurt.”

_“You too. Love you, Blaine.”_

“I love you too.”

When the call ends Blaine drops the phone on the pillow next to his head. No, tonight won’t be the worst, but Kurt might (will) call again tomorrow, and he closes his eyes and makes himself think of that.

<>  



End file.
